The New Ruler of Hell
by DeanSanity
Summary: When Dean went to hell, he was tortured beyond belief. But he was given a deal he had to take. Then, when it's Sammy's turn to face Lucifer, he's in for a big surprise.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey all!**

**This is the start, so this chapter is a tad shorter than what I would normally want for my chapters. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own SPNor the characters. Only this plot.**

The hell hounds came at Dean, he backed away but the dogs were too fast, tackling him to the ground. Sam called out for his brother, but the hounds already clawed through the eldest's chest, drawing up blood and ripping flesh. Dean screamed out in pain, before he fell silent, and his eyes went from life filled to empty in only a meter of seconds.

"Sammy," he called, yet his voice was only a mere whisper, _I'm sorry_. He couldn't get another word from his throat, he couldn't draw in any more air. Dean Winchester, was dead.

Sam fell to his knees next to his brother, bringing his brothers head to his chest. Tears fell down his cheeks and sobs broke from his mouth, "I'm sorry Dean, I'm so sorry."

* * *

Dean woke, yet he couldn't move. I tried to break free from whatever holding him, but stop short when pain launched through his body. It felt like fire biting at his skin, like a knife being continuously jabbed into his burning flesh. He looked and saw hooks piercing his legs and shoulders. The chains attached to his shoulders and legs pulled at the hooks, tearing his skin apart, grinding his bones and making him bleed. He cried out, yet no one came. He was alone, completely alone.

Well, not _completely _alone.

He just can't be seen. The yellow eyes of the demon smirked down at him, watching as the eldest brother flinched and pulled away in pain. He laughed as the fire burned him to a crisp, blackening the usually tanned skin, and laughed at the burnt skin peeled away leaving the raw red muscle beneath.

Dean couldn't stop screaming, there was so much pain, so much hurt. All his nightmare came true in his mind, hurting just as much has his actual body. He saw him kill his brother, he saw his brother die over and over. Dean watched as Sammy was eaten by a monster, slayed by a demon, tortured by himself.

Dean would never torture anyone, never hurt his own brother. He would never but... Why is he here? In his mind?

Tears streamed down the Winchesters face, he was hurting so much. So much pain. Why can't he just be dead? _Everyone would be so much happier if he was dead._

A man appeared- no, not man. A demon appeared before him, a sickening smile on his disgusting face. Could it even be called a face? No, it was hardly a face, and if it was, it looked as if sandpaper rubbed against it, piranhas ate at it, and then it was set aflame.

He'd probably look very similar very soon.

The demon smirked down at the Winchester, smiling a sickly sweet smile, "Hello. I'm honored to be your torturer. I mean, not everyone gets the opportunity to torture a Winchester. But, I'll give you a choice, you don't have to be tortured. Just torture someone else for me. I'm sure you'll be splendid at it!"

Dean set his jaw straight and looked over at the demon, giving m his best glare, "Rot in Hell," Dean managed through clenched teeth.

The demon shrugged, smirking, "I'm already here. And I won't be the one rotting," the demon jabbed a blade into Deans gut earning a moan of pain, "My names Azazel. And I will be your tormentor."

* * *

It it felt like years, and the torment would never stop. Every day, or not day. There was no time on hell, no period to sleep or rest. It was constant, small breaks between the torturings. No food, no water. No day, no night. It was... It was just there.

Whenever a break was over, Azazel would come back to Dean. He would make the same offer, "All this can stop if you decide to become my student. I will teach you to torture."

Each time, Dean would say no. Then after that, it would start yet again. Azazel would start will small cuts, like paper cuts. Only add lemon to the cuts, it would burn. Then he would get the flames and Dean would be on fire- that Was when it would really burn. Then came the knives, the whips, the cutting, carving. Deans insides would fall out. His heart would be ripped from his chest, yet he wouldn't die. No, he would still feel everything. His teeth would be ripped from his skill, the lips cut off, the skin peeled from his muscles, his muscles danced with flames. his bones snapped like twigs, and s whole body burned, ached, white hot flame pulsed through him. That's all he began to feel: pain. It overwhelmed him. He forgot how to love, care, smile, laugh. All he knew was pain, despair.

He was no longer broken: he was shattered. He shattered into a million pieces, unable to be put back together or mend. He couldn't take it any longer. It was... He couldn't. The pain, the agony. It filled his body, waiting to burst. One more push and he'll give in; he knows it, and hates himself for it.

"Dean!"

Deans eyes widened, and he looked over and saw... No, it couldn't be. But..."Sammy?" His voice was horse, and as he spoke blood spilled from his mouth.

"Dean, your alive," Dean smiled up, what was left of his heart had hope. Had his brother come for him? To save him? It... It, "How disappointing."

Deans eyes widened, the hope from his heart fleeing even faster then it came. That's no Sammy, no, it's a demon in disguise, dressed as his brother, "You bastard! Don't you dare imitate my brother! I'll rip your throats out!" Anger flared in Dean, it overtook the pain. Now Dean struggled against the ropes. How-how dare they? Not Sammy! if they dared touch Sammy he'll- they will pay.

"I'm no demon Dean. It's me, Sammy. and I just wanted to say, I hate you. I hated you since the day Jessica died. I didn't hunt with you for Dad, much less you. It was all revenge. I thought you could help. But you couldn't because you were weak-"

"Stop."

"-pathetic. You couldn't protect me-"

"Dammit! I said stop!"

"-much less anyone else. You didn't hunt to help people. You hunted for you. Because you like killing. I saw it in your eyes. You enjoy the blood, the screams. Your a monster-"

"Please... Stop"

"-and I hate you as much as everyone else. Why do you think I left? Because of you, and dad. I couldn't stand you, Dean. I never could. And now that your in hell, I'm happier. Back at school, have a new girlfriend. Your already out of my mind. I don't care that you dead. I just wish you would have died sooner."

"No. It isn't true! It can't be. Sammy... Sammy would never say that to me! We're family!" Tears streamed down Deans face. It must be a lie. Sam is his brother- they're family. They will never want each other to die. They love each other, care for each other.

But... But... Family means nothing if your heart isn't there. And _Sam's_ heart isn't in hunting. His heart lies in revenge for Jessica. It can't be true though. Still, they are brothers. But...

DAMMIT!

Dean couldn't stop the tears, or the sobs. It can't be true... It can't be.

"But it is Dean. It's all true."

No, but... This is Sam. _No, not Sam. A demon. _How could he be so sure though? Through everything, what's real and what's not? What's Sam and what isn't? He can't know, _doesn't know. _He just wants his little brother back. That's all Dean wants, for Sam to look up to him again. Smile at him, hug him. Treat him like a brother he cares about. Is that really too much to ask for? For Sam to be here with him, care for him, smile at him or laugh at his horrible puns: to be a family again?

"That can become a reality, Dean. Just come with me, let me show you a few tricks. Say yes to me, Dean," Sam reached his hand out, waiting for Dean to grab it, "I miss you. Let's be a family again, Dean. Take my hand."

Dean couldn't resist that offer. He had too, he wanted his little brother back. The restraints on him vanishing. He took his brother hand, the pain almost immediately disappearing. This was the right choice, he decided, everything can only get better now. Sam smiled, "I'm so glad you chose me, Dean."

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	2. Hell bound

**Ta-da! Chapter 2. Enjoy!**

Sam was at Bobby's, on the couch alone. A cold beer laid untouched on the coffee table in front of him, a sandwich next to it. Sam knew Bobby left it there on purpose, for him to eat. Sam didn't feel like eating though, Sam didn't want to do anything besides get his brother back.  
Sam's fists clenched, knuckles turning white, tears falling down his cheeks as sobs threatened to escape. It was his fault. Everything. Only if he was more careful, if he didn't get stabbed that day, if he was able to kill Lilith, stop her, work harder and find a way to save his brother. No, Dean doesn't deserve hell or torture. If anyone did, it's Sam. And now Sam knew what to do. He will free Dean, no matter what.  
Sam stood abruptly, walking out into the night. He grabbed the keys and entered the impala, only using a second to remind himself how Dean never would have let him drive. Sam smiled, if Dean saw him drive his baby in the state Sam was in now, getting tears in the sweet leather- he would be a dead man.  
Sam smiled softly, revving up the engine and taking off down the road. The radio was shut off, because the classical music would only remind Sam more of his brother. The car in itself held too many memories. The little toy soldiers stuck in the car, the carving of the DW and the SW in the back seat. Even the little stain of soda in the passenger side from where Sam spilled his drink, then hid it successfully for four days until Dean (sadly) discovered it and threw a fit. Remembering back, Sam's cheek still hurts from the punch. Sam wouldn't trade that for anything else- mainly because he punched back before they settled whose true fault it was: Deans bad driving causing the drink to spill, or Sam's clumsiness. Sam won, because Dean always picked scissors.  
Sam hadn't even noticed the tears streaming down his cheeks until one fell into his hand. He knew he was crying, but not this much beforehand. He wanted his big brother back. Why can't the goddamn fate just keep them happy? At least one alive? Did the world really hate them this much to make them suffer?!  
Sam pulled the impala to the side of the road, walking out and to the middle of the intersection- or crossroad. He dug a whole and put the box inside, before waiting. Not long after a demon appeared, the demon smirked, "Sam Winchester. Nice seeing you here. Come to save your brother?"  
Sam quickly wiped the tears from his eyes, "Give me back my brother. His soul for mine."  
The demon laughed, still staying a safe distance away from the youngest brother, "No can do. We have everything where we want it. Dean in hell, and you here. You got no deal Sammy."  
Sam lunged forward, taking the demon by the throat, "Don't you dare _ever_ call me that."  
The demon chuckled, smiling, "And what are you giving to do- ugh" the demon knife stuck the monster in the stomach, effectively killing him on the spot.  
The demons want Dean in hell, and Sam alive? But why? Why him, why his brother, why them? What have they ever done to deserve this?  
Sam turned back to impala, one longing look at what could have been Deans rescue, before he started his drive back to Bobby's. He would save his brother, though. He knows that. He will do anything to save his brother.  
"Anything is a strong word, you know."  
Sam spun, steering the impala off the road before he took control and brought it back up. If Dean saw that...  
Sam eyed the thing next to him, gun pointed at its head, "What the hell are you?"  
The demon rolled her eyes, "Don't recognize me? I don't blame you. I'm Ruby. You know, the demon who saved your but and wants to help you."  
Sam straightened, teeth clenched. How can he be sure? The last 'Ruby' ended up being Lilith and got Dean killed.  
"Don't worry Sam. I'm me. Now, meet me at this address," she put a slip of paper in the Winchesters shirt pocket, "and we can work out how to get your lively big brother back."  
Sam's eyes widened, he opened his mouth to reply, but the damned demon was gone. Sam knew he shouldn't go, Dean wouldn't have allowed it. -but Dean isn't here.- if it could work, if he could get hi brother back. He'll do it.  
He took out the paper, seeing the address for an old motel. Sorry Bobby, guess he's not coming home just yet.

* * *

Dean followed his brother into one of the many torture chambers hell has. He was curious as to why his brother has brought him here. Sammy would never have wanted to hurt people, much less would he willingly torture someone.  
Sam turned, smiling at his 'brother', "But Dean, these aren't people. They're monsters who killed and murdered and raped. This is just their punishment."  
Still, it's not like Sammy. Sammy would be the one hugging them saying it's OK or trying to redeem them. Never punish them. No, punishment reminds them too much of John.  
"It's fine, Dean. They deserve this. You and I both know it," Sam handed Dean a blade and walked him up to a struggling man begging for his life, "Do it Dean. Punish him."  
Dean nodded, all thoughts leaving fleeing from his brain. Dean brought the knife above his head before he rammed it into the gut of the man. Sam smirked, and the earth trembled. The Heavens and Hell all felt the blow that was delivered, and a chuckling could be heard. Dean didn't wander what that was all about, he ignored it all. He was just curious as to why he was enjoying the screams of pain and the blood dripping from his hands.  
No, he's not torturing a monster. He is the monster.  
_No Dean. You are no monster._  
Dean looked up. Someone spoke to him...  
_Yes, that's me. Please, call me Lucifer._ the voice was soft and sweet. Nothing how Dean would have expected the devil to sound.  
_I'm no devil. I'm a fallen angel who was thrown from my home._  
Dean chuckled lightly, he sounds more like Sammy. Sammy was always the good one, the angel in the family. Kicked out by dad.  
_Well, yes. That's the point. Sammy is like me, you like Michael. But you know, I'm bored of playing by the rules. I want to mix it up a bit. How about you?_  
Yeah. Dean has been tired of 'rules'  
_Exactly! How about you come to the cage for some hot chocolate. We can talk and gossip. I've just been dying to complain about my family! An you know what? I can even get you some pie._  
Dean nodded... Wait. No, Dean snapped up from what he was doing, all rational thoughts re-entering his mind. How could he have let his guard down like that?! Dean mentally slapped himself, he let the torturing get to him! Dammit! Dean backed away from his victim, dropping the knife. No way in hell would he have pie or hot chocolate or any of that crap with the fucking devil! And that... That's not his brother. His brother would never-!  
"Dean, Dean, this is me. I'm Sammy, Dean!" Not-Sam walked up to Desn, grabbing his face and looking him in the eyes, "This is me, Dean! You see this? This is the face of your brother. Look me in the eyes, am I lying?"  
Dean paused, before scowling at this demon, "Damn straight your lying," Dean pushed back the Not-Sam, diving for the knife he was using for torturing and shoving it into Not-Sam's heart, "See, Sammy would have been able to block that easily."  
Dean then sprinted away. There must be some way out of hell. There has to be.  
_What a shame. I actually liked that demon. But he was a bad Sam, wasn't he? Never trust a demon for acting._  
Dean shook his head, trying to get rid of the voice.  
_You can't get rid of me Dean! I'm in your head! Not literally, of course. That would be gross._  
"Get the fuck out of my head!" Dean screamed, still running. Though, he should have known running wouldn't get him anywhere. He's in hell, surrounded by demons. The demons also know he's there, and will stop him- most unmercilessly, might he add. A swift blow to the head knocked him back. Then there was kicking, scratching, and different forms of stabbing. Dean yelled out, delivering punches of his own. All in vain, however, because the next thing he knew he was tied up yet again, his 'brother' glaring down at him.  
"You should have listened to me Dean. Now, though. Now we can never be a family," the Not-Sam took out a knife, "I need to teach you to listen to me, Dean."  
Dean tried to break free, "I know you aren't Sammy, you bitch!"  
Not-Sam smiled, but it wasn't Sam's smile. It was evil, filled with malicious intent and sickening sweet, "No, Dean. I am your brother. Just the side he keeps buried."  
Not-Sam approached, twirling the knife in his fingers, Azazel behind him smirking, "Well Dean. How about we teach you a thing or two about torturing, no? Step one, always start nicer, with blows that'll keep the person alive till the end."  
Not-Sam took the knife and took it to the side of Dean's mouth, opening his cheek in a way for when Dean screamed out it pain, the flesh only opened more. Thus it continued, the torture, the pain. But this time, it was delivered by the demon dressed as his brother.  
_It's called mental torture, Dean. Just as effective as physical torture. I should know, I tried both out._  
Dean scowled.  
_I can help you though. Stop all this and reunite you with your brother. All you have to do is say yes. It's a simple word, so easy even you could say it._  
Never.  
_Fine then. Have fun being tortured by your brother. Tell me when you want the pain to stop. Say 'yes' when you want to see your brother again. Hug him and all that sentimental crap._  
Deans eyes shut tight, braving himself for all the torture that laid ahead. He did want it to stop though. He wanted it to stop so bad, _and all you have to do is say yes._

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